Of Pleasure and Pain Outtakes
by GemmaH
Summary: Outtakes and alternative points of view, for my story 'Of Pleasure & Pain'.
1. Chapter 1

**Pen-name: Gemmah**

**Rating: M for lemons & language**

**Genre: Angst**

**Characters: Edward/Bella/Angela**

**This is an outtake from my story Of Pleasure & Pain, which can be found in my other stories on ffn.**

**Summary: This story started as a one-shot for the Twi Kink Fest. When confronted with the evidence of her husband, Edward, cheating on her with her BFF, Bella finds her reactions are conflicting. This is her story. A situation of pleasure and of pain.**

**Thanks to BeckyBrit & TwiWeasel for their help with this outtake :o).**

**Disclaimer ~ All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer.**

**Of Pleasure & Pain Outtake~ Edward**

"Merry Christmas!" Angela half-sings as she opens the front door to us. I really can't be bothered with this whole thing. I only finished work for the holidays a couple of hours ago, but I'd promised Bella we'd come. I've been a bit of an ass to her lately, I know; working late, tired and snappy. Things should ease up a little when the office reopens in the New Year, that's our quietest time.

Bella greets Angela as she enters first, giving her a quick hug. As I step through the doorway behind her, Angela steps up and hugs me, kissing my cheek as she does.

"Hi, Edward," she whispers in my ear.

This is…new. Firstly, because she's never greeted me this way before, and secondly because she's always just been _Angela_ to me, but as I pull back something in her voice when she spoke to me, makes me look closely at her. She's looking good, prettily made up and with a definite sparkle in her eye. As both women turn and walk away from me, I find myself paying attention to her body too. That red dress looks great on her. I've never noticed how long her legs are…

I shake my head. What the hell am I doing? It's one thing checking strangers out when I'm alone, most guys do that, but checking out my wife's best friend when Bella's here too? That's not me.

I wonder who else is here this evening? I'm praying Jess and Lauren haven't been invited. I see the way they look at me and it makes me uneasy, even if it _does _amuse Bella. I can't imagine it would amuse me much if any my friends looked at Bella as though she were something to eat. I guess she doesn't see them as a threat.

* * *

><p>I needn't have worried; there are plenty of people here, but none of them are Jess or Lauren. I spend the evening catching up with some of the guys from town who I haven't seen in a while. Bella spends the evening growing increasingly drunk thanks to Angela's generosity with the bottles of spirits lined up on the kitchen counter. She isn't a drinker, not really, so I shouldn't be surprised that by the time everybody else has left, she's in the bathroom puking it all back up.<p>

"Bella?" I knock on the bathroom door. I'd stuck with beer, and although I'm definitely feeling the effects, I'm not the mess that she now is. She appears at the door, bleary eyed and tucking her long, brown hair behind her ears as she slumps against the door frame. "Come on, baby," I tell her, wrapping an arm around her and letting her lean on me. "Let's get you home."

"No!" she looks up at me, bloodshot brown eyes suddenly wide. "I promised Ange we'd help her clean up. I can't leave now." I smile. It's so like Bella.

"Ok, well then let's sit you down and get you a glass of water first. You're no use like this," I laugh lightly.

I help her to the couch and lower her gently down. She immediately stretches out and closes her eyes. I can see who's going to be doing the clearing up of the two of us, and it's not going to be sleeping beauty.

"I'll get you some water," I tell her. She grunts and I smile. She's going to feel like hell in the morning. I collect as many empties from the various surfaces as I can carry, and take them through to the kitchen while I'm headed that way anyway.

As I enter the kitchen, I'm greeted by the sight of Angela bending over as she loads the dishwasher. The back hem of her dress is barely covering her ass, and the view makes me pause, my arms still full of bottles and glasses.

"Oh! Hey, Edward," she says seeing me as she straightens up. "Here, let me help." She walks over and begins to relieve me of some of my load. I'm not sure whether she's touching me more than really necessary, or if I'm just noticing it more because of the effect she's having on me tonight. Either way, it feels good, and that confuses me. I've never had my head turned before, not since I met Bella, and a part of me hates the fact that it's happening now.

"Bella passed out," I tell her as I place the last of the glasses on the counter.

"She did?" Angela laughs. She has a nice smile, I notice for the first time. I suddenly realize that I'm just standing smiling goofily at her.

"I'll…uh…just do some more cleaning up…" I stammer, taking a step back towards the doorway.

"Oh, really, it can wait," she tells me. I watch her as she stalks towards me across the kitchen. My heart is beating faster, and I'm not sure whether it's because I'm panicking or if it's anticipation. If I've been reading her cues correctly tonight, I think I have an idea of what is on her mind.

She stops right in front of me and tilts her head to one side as she looks up at me from below her eyelashes.

"I always wondered something," she says softly, her tongue just peeking out to moisten her bottom lip.

"What's that?" I ask, my voice tight with nerves. I step off to the side a little, but she follows. I shuffle back and hit the counter. Still she follows. I reach back and my fingers grip the edge of the counter tightly.

"Whether your eyes are as beautiful close up, as they are at a distance," she says, moving so that there is barely any space at all between our bodies. She places her hands flat on my chest as she stretches up, her fingers stroking me through the thin fabric of my shirt. I feel myself begin to harden as, despite the war raging in my head, her actions begin to affect me.

Her face is close to mine now. She looks deep into my eyes and reels me in, leaning towards me and capturing my lips with her own before I even realize what's happening.

As Angela's lips meet mine, the first thing I think is how different it feels. I've spent the past six years kissing only one woman; we fit together. This feels strange, although not necessarily in a bad way.

_Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Cullen, _my conscience pipes up. It's enough to make me pull away, my hands on her shoulders, forcing some distance between us.

"Angela, I can't. This is wrong. Bella—"

"Is passed out in the other room and will never know," Angela cuts in, pushing her fingers into the top of my jeans and pulling herself close again. "We both want this, Edward…" She leans in and begins to suck gently at my neck. Holy shit, that feels amazing. I can't help the moan that escapes from my mouth. Angela catches it too, and it seems to encourage her. She sucks harder and then nips me with her teeth. The sudden pain causes me to cry out a little. Instinctively, I push her roughly away, but she still has her fingers in my waistband and she pulls me with her as she twists back and to the side, until she hits the other counter top. My body bumps into hers as I put my hands forward to try and catch the surface behind her, finally getting a grip on the counter, but not until my face is only a couple of inches from hers.

I catch a flash of something heated in her eyes, and that one look ignites something similar in me. A split second, a thought suppressed in my mind, and I let my instincts burst through and lead me. My mouth goes straight to hers. There's no slow or soft approach; I'm taking what she's offering to me and I'm taking it now. She responds with similar force. This doesn't feel strange any longer, because it's simply too different to compare to anything I'm used to now.

I run my hands roughly up her body, grunting in satisfaction as she pushes her breast further into my hand and lets out a groan. I follow her dress down, until my hand feels the soft fabric replaced by even softer skin. Back up now, but beneath the material this time. The curve where her leg meets her ass swells beneath my hand and I dig my fingers into her flesh, causing her to gasp into my mouth. I relax my grip on her ass, my lips fall away from hers, and my eyes roll up in my head as I feel her hand palming me firmly through my jeans. I thrust my hips and push myself harder onto her hand, but then it's gone. I moan and about to protest when I feel a lighter, shaky sensation. She's unbuttoning my fly.

She's barely had time to wrap her hand around me, before I've reached back beneath her dress and literally ripped her flimsy panties from her. I've always wanted to do that to a woman and it's every bit as erotic as I always dreamt it would be. My hands go to her waist and I lift her up onto the counter, pushing her dress up and spreading her legs wide apart. I stand between them and brush the back of my hand all the way to the top of the inside of her thigh, pushing two fingers firmly inside her when I get to where I was aiming for. She throws her head back as she gasps and rocks on her hips, almost trapping my hand beneath her. I reach around her waist and yank her forward, closer to the edge where I can get at her better. My fingers pump in and out of her a few times, sliding easily because she's so damn wet for me.

I capture her mouth and kiss her hard again. Slipping my fingers from inside her, I lift them to where our lips meet, sliding them between so that we can both taste her. She pulls away from the kiss and sucks one of my fingers into her mouth, watching me closely as she begins to move her mouth up and down over it, simulating what looks like it could be the best fucking blow job I've ever seen. When she slides it out for the last time, she looks into my eyes.

"Fuck me, Edward," she pleads. I'm way past the point of second thoughts, all brain function having switched to the hard, throbbing length between my legs.

"Oh, God," I groan, as I push my jeans down over my ass. That's as far as they get, because she's pulling me in for a desperate kiss again. When I pull back just a few seconds later, she's holding a foil wrapper in her hand. I have absolutely no idea where she got it, but I'm not about to argue. I take it from her, rip it open, roll it on and then move up to push myself as far into her as I can get. Her legs wrap around my waist as I fuck her hard. Reaching up behind her, I wrap her hair around my hand and yank down on it, revealing her neck to me as her head is pulled back. I attack it with my mouth, driving us both further into our frenzy.

It feels so good to let fly a little; to release some masculine tension in a powerful way, rather than the gentle lovemaking that was the usual way I got mine these days.

She comes before I do, but only just; her climax triggering my own.

As I pull out of her, trying to catch my breath, it's almost as though my brain floats back up my body from my crotch to my head. My dick's still twitching even as the first tendrils of guilt begin to spread and entwine around my brain. I think of my sweet, loving wife lying unconscious in the next room, and I feel more than a little sick at what I just did. I grimace as I pull the condom off and yank my pants back up as I dump it in the trash. As I fasten my fly, my back to Angela, I feel arms snake around my waist. I step quickly out of her grasp, turning to face her. I'm angry as hell, as much at myself as at her.

"That will never be happening again," I tell her through gritted teeth, my hands clenched in fists at my sides.

"You didn't enjoy it?" she asks me, pouting. I snort and roll my eyes.

"That's irrelevant, Angela. I'm _married_. To _your_ best friend. This would kill Bella if she ever found out."

"Why would she find out? I'm not going to tell her," she says. I search her face for any signs of regret or guilt. I find neither.

"Jesus, Angela." I move to leave the room, but she catches hold of my arm. I shake her off, turning roughly to face her. "What?" I spit out. She cowers back ever so slightly. I'm surprised to find myself getting a kick out of her reaction. As I stare her down, her eyes darken.

"I was just going to say…if you ever change your mind. Well, you know where to find me." I look at her for a moment longer. My emotions are rushing around my head so fast, that I'm struggling to identify what they are exactly. Disgust is definitely up there, but also there, burning below everything else, but burning steadily, is lust for this woman, who I now despise. It was wrong; so wrong, but exciting because of that very fact.

"Don't hold your breath," I tell her, turning and leaving the room.

I walk into the living room where Bella is. She hasn't moved at all, still in the exact same position I left her in. Her cheeks are still flushed from the alcohol and her hair is mussed up around her head. Another stab of guilt shoots through me, causing me to wince. What did she ever do to deserve what I just did to her?

I need to get out of here. I need to get _us _out of here. Gently, I try to rouse Bella. Nothing. I shake her with more force, saying her name. Finally she opens her eyes. I tell her we need to go. She begs me not to make her move. Helping her to her feet, I all but drag her to the door, desperate to get out of there. There's no sign of Angela and I breathe a sigh of relief as the front door closes behind us. Part of me had feared a messy confrontation. After tonight I had no idea what else she was capable of.

* * *

><p>Christmas morning. The sound of a text message arriving causes me to stir. I wasn't really asleep, I haven't slept all night, but it disturbs the rhythm of the turmoil that roils around inside me. Bella rolls over, groaning with the movement. She gropes around on her nightstand for her phone, which she miraculously managed to keep attached to the night before, despite her drunken stupor.<p>

As I reach for mine, I realize that the same cannot be said for me.

"It's from Angela," she mumbles. "You left your phone there last night." Her arm flops back down on the bed. "She says to come and get it."

Shit, shit, fuck.

"It's Christmas Day," I argue.

"It's fine; we don't have anywhere to be until this afternoon."

"Well, I think you should go, baby," I tell her, scrabbling to come up with another excuse. "She's your friend."

"I can't move," she tells me. "I think I might be dying. Anyway, what does it matter whose friend she is? You're only picking up your phone."

I don't reply; I'm too busy with the internal panic that threatens to engulf me. _I can do this, _I tell myself. Knock. Ask for phone. Get phone. Leave.

* * *

><p>"You were gone a long time," Bella says from beneath the blanket on the couch, as I walk back in at eleven thirty, an hour and a half after I left.<p>

Shit; she noticed. What else does she notice? I wonder. Will she detect that I smell different? Do I _look _different? I feel as though my guilt is written all over me, declaring my infidelity to the world. I'd never cheated on Bella before yesterday, and now I've done it twice in twelve hours. I wonder how I've lost myself so easily. It worries me that I have.

* * *

><p><strong>Nine months later<strong>

"Edward?" I'm vaguely aware of Bella saying my name. I try to answer, but I'm semi-paralysed by sleep. "Edward," she says. "Who's 'A'?"

My brain is slowly beginning to process what is going on now.

"What?" I ask sleepily, as I move a little beneath the comfort of the covers.

"Who's 'A'? I have your phone here and—"

Her words act as the brain equivalent of a defibrillator, shocking me into consciousness.

I throw myself forward to try and snatch my phone back from her before she finds something incriminating. I've been meaning to clear all my messages for a while now, just in case. It hadn't seemed urgent though; Bella never usually goes near my phone. As my hand is about to close around it, she pulls it back out of my reach. Why would she do that? Unless…

I have a nasty feeling that she's already seen something. What though? Is it something innocuous I can explain away somehow, or am I well and truly busted? I stop, my hand mid-air, and try to read her face for a clue. She raises her eyebrows. It's a challenge, I can tell, and in that moment I guess that she knows.

This is going to be bad. She's going to be devastated. I spend most of my time fighting to push the guilt down, but now, in this moment, it pushes its way to the surface. The feeling is almost unbearable.

My mouth is dry, and I swallow in an attempt to try and get some moisture back in it. I have no idea what to do, and so I close my eyes. _Think, think, think_, I urge myself, desperate for inspiration for how to get us out of this and prevent her from hurting.

I reopen my eyes. She's just sitting looking at me; she hasn't moved at all.

"What…?" I begin to ask, trailing off. I'm still unable to ask her directly; unwilling to risk implicating myself if she doesn't know for sure. She has me confused as she tilts her head as she watches me. I'm almost sure she knows, but she's not reacting. It doesn't make any sense.

"Please may I have the phone?" I ask her, cautiously. If I can just get it back from her…

"You still haven't answered my question, Edward," she says, her voice strangely detached. "Who's 'A'?"

She definitely knows. There's no real curiosity in her question; she's not frowning in confusion. It's confirmation that she wants. Why did I ever start this? I was too weak to say no, and now I feel too weak to deal with all the shit it's going to cause.

"'A'?" My tongue sticks to the roof my mouth again. Maybe she doesn't know. Maybe if I play dumb…"I don't know what you're—"

She gives me a look that speaks volumes. It tells me that she knows what I did, she knows what I'm doing now, and that she's had enough of my bullshit. I can't stand to see her looking at me this way. I try to move towards her. "Bella, Baby, please—"

She edges away from me. It breaks my heart, but then I guess that's only fair. I've more than likely broken hers.

"Don't call me that," she says.

"I'm sorry…shit." Sorry? Never has the word sounded quite so inadequate. I roll onto my back, closing my eyes and tugging at my hair in frustration with myself for being such an asshole these last nine months.

"Sorry you did it, or sorry you got caught?" she asks. I can't believe she'd ask such a thing. Of course I'm sorry; sorry I ever agreed to go that night, sorry I ever laid eyes on Angela; you name anything to do with this whole mess and I'm sorry about it. I turn my head and look at her. I have no idea how to even begin to explain it, how to find the words.

"Yeah, I thought as much," she says, taking my silence to mean the opposite of what I'm actually thinking. I can't let her believe that.

"No! No, don't think that, don't _ever _think that." I pull myself up to a sitting position again and move closer. I need to touch her, but when I reach my hand out to her face, she moves her head away. I put my arm down, my stomach twisting at the rejection; at the hurt I've caused her that has led to the rejection. I look away. "I'm a fucking idiot." I say, more to myself that to her; I'm pretty sure she's already figured it out for herself. "_Why_ am I such a fucking idiot?"

I look back at her, ready to open my heart.

"Bella, I love you, you have to believe that. I don't even know why I did it, it was fucking stupid." Every word is true. Ok, it was exciting at the time, but I know already that it's not going to be worth the fall-out from the situation.

"I don't know anything any more, Edward," she says. "I certainly don't know you." I can't believe it's possible for so few words to make a person feel as bad as I do in that moment. Is that really how she feels? It hurts to think it's true.

"Don't say that," I whisper, not trusting my voice. "I'm the same person; I haven't changed."

"No, you haven't," she says. "People don't. But you're not the man I thought you were. Do you know what happens when we lose someone we love?"

I shake my head; no.

"We grieve. I'm grieving for the man I thought I'd married." Finally the cool façade is slipping and her voice grows louder as she allows her anger to bubble up. "I'm grieving for somebody who has never even existed, Edward! Do you know how stupid that makes me feel?"

She jumps out of bed and stands up next to it. I'm losing her; the physical distance makes me panic, accompanied as it is by the sudden emotional distance between us. I make to follow her, moving on my hands and knees across the bed and climbing off to stand beside her. She moves away from me. I feel like just about the worst person in the world right now, and I don't know what the hell to do to make it right.

"Sit down," she says, pointing back at the bed.

"But, Bella—"

"Sit!" she barks. I sit.

"She's my best friend," she says in a whisper. I keep my eyes downcast, unable to look at what I've done to her. "Or should I say she _was_ my best friend. How could you? How could _she_?"

I hold my head in his hands, rocking slightly as I sit on the edge of the bed.

"I know, I know," I say quietly, wanting it all to end.

"How long?" she suddenly asks. I move one of my hands and lift my head to look up at her. _Please don't ask me. Don't make me answer, I can't bear to see you suffer more, and you will. _

"Bella, don't do this," I plead.

"I need to know."

"You don't."

"Do NOT dare to presume to tell me what I do or do not need to know. You've dropped me in the middle of this shitty situation, at least let _me_ decide how I'm going to deal with it!" She yells. "How. Long?"

I look up, closing my eyes as I prepare to speak. I can't look; I can't see her reaction.

"Nine months," I say.

"Nine months?" she asks. I nod my head. "New Year?"

"Christmas Eve."

"But I was with you Christmas Eve," she says. I open my eyes. She's clearly confused. "We went to Angela's place, but I was with you all night…" she pauses and I can see that she remembers the crucial detail. "Until I passed out."

"Angela," she says. It's not a question, but a statement. She remembered afterwards how Angela plied her with drinks from the moment we arrived; we'd even discussed it – somewhat awkwardly on my part – afterwards. I nod. I need to make her understand that I'd never even thought about it before, that I didn't start this whole mess.

"I swear to you, Bella, she started it. She cornered me in the kitchen while I was fetching a glass of water for you and—"

"I believe you," she says. Thank fuck! The relief is instantaneous. It doesn't last beyond her next sentence though. "Not that it matters. You could have said no. You could have said 'no' at that point and you could have said 'no' at any other point during the past nine months. But you didn't. You just carried on fucking my best friend." She begins pacing up and down the room.

"I knew," she says. "I knew you were seeing someone. I even discussed it with her!" she lets out this strange laugh that sounds more like pain than amusement. I guess it is.

"Yeah, I know," I tell her, getting into the swing of the whole honesty thing, just around nine months too late. Angela had told me that Bella had suspicions about me cheating. I remember being more than a little disturbed by the fact that she'd seemed to get a kick out of Bella choosing to confide in _her_ about it.

"Of course. Well she would tell you, wouldn't she? Did you use that information to improve your game plan, huh? To try arrangements that wouldn't make me so suspicious?"

She was a mile off the truth; it hadn't been some cosy pillow talk, it had been the conversation where I'd told Angela that we needed to stop; that if Bella found out, it would kill her; which in turn would kill me. I'd discovered that it was a fallacy that men who have affairs don't love their wives. I never loved Bella any less, although I know that neither she, nor anybody else, will ever believe me, in lieu of my recent 18ehaviour.

Anyway, we _had _stopped. For a few weeks at least. I wonder what to tell her. I open my mouth to speak, and then close it again, unable to find the right words. Finally I stop trying.

"I don't know what to say," I admit, feeling the tears gathering in my eyes. "What do you want me to say?" I hear the strain in my own voice and watch as she winces.

"I don't know," she says, her own voice straining with emotion. "Iwant you to tell me that I imagined the whole thing. That there are no texts. That there are no emails. That I didn't stand ten feet away from your car at a picnic site and watch while you fucked her like an animal."

She'd seen us. Somehow this made it so much worse. She'd watched me fucking her best friend and then she'd come home and waited for this moment. I truly hated myself.

"You watched us?"

"Yes." She felt uncomfortable admitting it, I could tell. "Why don't you fuck me like that?" she asks, suddenly. I'm shocked. She watched me with her best friend and the thing she's asking me is why I don't fuck her in the same way? "Is that why you did it? Why you started this whole thing? Am I too vanilla for you, Edward? Am I boring in bed?"

"No!" I stand quickly, angry with her for even thinking that I could treat her in the same way that I treat Angela. I love Bella, Angela was just about the sex; it was all about the thrill. "Bella, I don't fuck you _like that_ because I don't _fuck _you. I _make love to you_, because that's how you deserve to be treated," I tell her. It's partly true. She's never shown any interest in wanting to try it any other way, so I never pushed it; because I love her.

"How I deserve to be treated? My God, you are such a hypocrite! How I deserve to be treated, is for my husband not to be screwing my best friend!"

I have no reply to that. She's right, of course. I suddenly realize that I'm standing there naked. It seems inappropriate somehow. I cross the room and take some boxer briefs out of my drawer, pulling them on. I head for the bathroom to escape for a moment, but a sense of hopelessness hits me even before I get there. I turn back and walk to her, placing my palms up in surrender.

"I can't do this, Bella. I need to make this right, but every time I open my mouth I make it worse." I tell her, trying to explain how I'm feeling.

"You can't possibly make it worse, there's nowhere lower on the scale for the situation to slide," she says, as she hugs herself. I want to do it for her, but I know she won't allow it.

"Please. Just please, let's try to work through this," I beg. "I won't go near her again. It's you, Bella. It's always been you. Trust me."

"Trust you? You did not just say that, Edward. I know you're not that dumb."

I hang my head, realizing that it was a stupid choice of words. I wonder if she'll ever trust me again. I wonder if she'll let herself even try. I hope so.

We seem to have reached an impasse. My heart feels as though it's being torn from my chest as I face up to the harsh reality of the situation. I can't justify what I did; what I've been doing for the past nine months. There's only more thing I can think to say.

"Do you want me to go?" I ask, as the tears break free of my eyes and begin to flow freely down my cheeks. I don't feel sorry for myself though; this is entirely my own fault and I can accept that. What I can't accept, is what I've done to Bella. Nobody deserves treating the way I've treated her. When her own tears follow mine, I'm not sure I can stand it, especially when she maintains her poise, looking directly at me, even as her shoulders shake, not even wiping her eyes.

"Yes, I do," she says. "You can't stay here."

As her words sink in, it's as though someone has pulled out the pin that held me up. My legs give way and I find myself on the floor. I wrap my arms around my knees and finally allow the pieces of my heart to fall apart, telling myself that I deserve every moment of the ache that permeates throughout my chest.

"What were you thinking, Edward?" she asks, through sobs that sound as raw as my own. I look up at her through my tears. "I don't want to let you go," she says, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hands. "But I can't stay with you now. It's too much. It's not fair on me."

The fact that she still loves me enough to _want_ to keep me, even if she's saying she can't, gives me a flash of hope. Maybe we can work this out. I'm just about to speak, when suddenly she gets angry. "How _dare _you do this to us? What gave you the right to make this decision for me? I don't want to be alone!"

I can't take this. I can't take the fact that this is my fault, for the sake of what? I move across the floor towards her.

"You don't have to be, Bella. We can work this out; I know we can. Please, just give me a chance," I beg, as I wipe my arm across my nose.

"You _had_ a chance," she says, the anger replaced once again by desperate sobbing. "You only get one chance with me. I don't _give _second chances." She's always told me that. Why didn't I listen?

Slowly, the implications of the situation begin to dawn on me and I feel myself growing panicky.

"Where will I go? What will I do? Bella, I'm _nothing _without you." I rub at my eyes, trying to scrub the tears away.

"You should have thought of that when you decided to start having an affair with another woman," she says, the venom of the betrayed in her voice.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I can't say it enough," I say, pleading for her to acknowledge my regret and _know_ that it's genuine.

"You need to leave," she says, suddenly calm, save for her shaky breathing. "Go to your mom and dad's; I need some space."

Shit. I haven't even thought about telling my parents. I can't go to them. I can't face looking at their faces and seeing the disappointment in their eyes

"What will I tell them?" I croak.

"Why don't you try telling the truth for once?" she says, and then she leaves the room.

My own tears don't dry up as quickly as hers; as the door closes behind her, I break down once more. I allow myself a few minutes self-pity, before I decide that it's time to pull myself together and face the consequences of what I've done.

I enter the kitchen, dressed and with a few clothes and toiletries thrown into a bag. She's sitting at the table with a mug of coffee in her hands. I don't want to leave her like this; so vulnerable looking. _You made her that way, _I remind myself, welcoming the punishment of the pain the thought brings.

She looks up at me. She looks torn.

"I've got my stuff," I tell her, urging her to tell me that she's changed her mind; that she wants me to stay and we'll work things out.

"I can see," she says. We look at one another for another long moment.

"Well, I guess I'll be heading out then." I'm still praying for a miracle.

"Ok."

"Should I come round tomorrow? Can we talk then?" I ask, anxious to resolve things.

"I'll call you when I'm ready," she says. I have to accept it; I owe her enough, I have to let _her_ take control now.

I walk up and kiss the top of her head, feeling her tense as I do so.

"Goodbye, Bella." The words almost kill me to say them.

"Bye," she replies simply.

I linger for a moment and then leave the room, collecting my jacket and pulling it on before leaving my home and my wife.

* * *

><p><strong>Please take a moment to leave a review, I'd love to know what you thought :o)<strong>


	2. EPoV of Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

** Edward PoV of Chapter 11**

I'm struggling to understand how it's possible to feel so at ease in another person's presence, while simultaneously being hyper-aware of every movement, every sound, they make. It's even harder to comprehend, when these movements and sounds are mostly so familiar to you that you don't even have to see or hear them happening to know what they look and sound like. I say mostly, because there's a new side to Bella now that wasn't there before. It's almost like our divorce has unlocked another side to her, and it's one that I wish I'd known before.

We're both at Jasper's birthday party. He's finally forgiven me for what I did to Bella, although things aren't the same between us as they once were. That pretty much goes for everyone in my life these days though. I've let them all down one way or another, I can see it in their faces, feel it in the extra distance they now keep.

Ironically, the person who feels most affronted is Angela. I ran into her at the gas station around a month ago. It was the first time I'd seen her in a while, but apparently time hasn't healed all wounds for her. Setting eyes on her again after all that has happened, and after a break, makes me see her in a whole new light. I have no fucking idea what I was thinking in risking my marriage for her.

She used to be a sweet girl when she was with Ben, God knows what happened between them to turn her into what she's become. Looking back now at the time I spent with her, it's like I was functioning with my eyes only half open to the whole picture. Actually, scratch that. My eyes were completely open and seeing everything, I'd just somehow managed to sever the link between my eyes and my brain. Nothing I was seeing was actually being processed, looking back now though, it was all there. I berate myself constantly for my idiocy, and no more than when I see Bella.

Tonight is the first time that I've really enjoyed myself in a long time. I almost feel like my old self again. Not the stressed out individual that let himself be ground down by life so far that he lost sight of what he had, and made some seriously fucked up decisions as a result, but _myself_. The real me that I feared had been lost forever. The relief at knowing I'm still the same person after all makes me even more content.

It's strange being part of a group with Bella, but not being together. I think this is the first time it's happened since we divorced. She seems happy tonight, but something's off, like she's maybe a little on edge. I wonder what the problem is, and whether it's me. I hope it isn't, I don't want to keep her from enjoying herself.

I cast discreet glances her way as we eat dinner. She sips her wine and I notice that her cheeks are already flushed. I fight to keep from staring at her. Everyone else is in deep conversation when she stands, gathers an empty plate in either hand and carries them from the room. Nobody notices as I collect some more dirty dishes and follow her out.

"Hey," I say softly, trying not to startle her. She sets the plates down, and turns to me.

"Hey, Edward," she says. She moves forward and reaches out to take the dishes from me. I can't take my eyes off her. I know her so well, and yet even this close, she looks different to me. She catches me staring and smiles a little, but I still feel as though I've been caught out doing something I shouldn't. She seems unperturbed. "So, how are things with you?" she asks. I'm pleased that she's showing an interest, and even happier that I can answer positively. I can't hide the genuine smile that bubbles up inside me before it reaches my mouth and stretches the corners of it wide.

"Good, actually. I'm well," I reply. Her eyebrows raise ever so slightly. I've surprised her.

"I'm glad," she says genuinely, smiling back at me. I'm about to ask her how things are for her, when Jasper finds us and pulls me into the living room to try and settle an argument. Regretfully I offer Bella a silent apology for the interruption. More regretfully I recognize that she doesn't seem to mind the interruption.

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><p>The rest of the evening passes quickly. I glance at Bella several times, but she never seems to look my way. Have I dropped off her radar so quickly, I wonder?<p>

Emmett and Rosalie get up to leave first. Em's still talking to Jasper, so I make my way into the hall to say goodbye to Rosalie. I stop when I see that Bella beat me to it, hanging back to let them finish talking, but close enough to hear their conversation.

"Are you excited?" Rosalie asks her.

"A _little_ excited, and _very_ scared," Bella replies. I'm instantly alert, wondering what they could be talking about.

"Relax, you'll be just fine. I think city life will suit you." Rose embraces Bella, as I process what I heard of the conversation, before realization slaps me sharply across the face.

I want to turn and run away. I want to grip her and shake her and beg her not to go. I do neither. I stand my ground, pushing my hands into my pockets to stop me from touching her. And that's how her gaze finds me as she embraces Rosalie. She looks startled, but the expression quickly makes way for one of guilt; one that's only intensified by the way she averts her eyes.

As Emmett enters, he envelops my wife…no, my _ex-wife_…in a hug so huge that she actually cries out in shock. I know there's nothing in it, for one thing his dedication to Rosalie is complete, and for another, Rosalie is standing right beside them, but it doesn't stop the irrational flash of jealousy that streaks through me when I see her in his arms. I try to push from my mind the nagging thought that, actually, one day I probably will have to see her with somebody else. The only thing that will hurt more than that, will be the knowledge that it's my own fault that she's free to be with another.

During his final goodbyes, Emmett tells Bella that he'll see her in a couple of weeks, before calling her 'neighbour'. She carries herself with yet more guilt as she closes the door slowly behind them. Alice and Jasper have gone back into the living room, and I can see that she's going to try and pass me by. I'm not going to let her though. Like some kind of masochist, I feel the need to have her spell out to me exactly what's going on.

As she moves past me, I reach out and catch a gentle hold of her arm.

"Bella?" I say, her name coming out as a question, feeling strange on my tongue. "You're leaving." She fidgets a little and looks as though she'd rather be anywhere else.

"Yeah. I've been offered a job in Seattle."

"Teaching?"

"No. Putting resources together."

"Right." I wonder if this is something she's always wanted to do, or a convenient escape. I hate myself a little more for not even knowing the answer to this question. There was a time when I'd known all of Bella's dreams and aspirations. I realize that I lost touch with that intimacy long before she threw me out of our bed. There's something else I need to know. "Were you going to tell me? Before you left, I mean." The fact that everyone aside from me knew that she was moving away, stings.

"Of course I was going to tell you, I've just not really seen you since it was all decided. Anyway, it's only for twelve months; I could be right back here in a year's time." There's something about her words that make me feel a little like a child being scolded for behaving unreasonably. "How are your parents?" she asks. I know it's a deliberate attempt to change the subject, but I go with it.

"They're good," I tell her, thinking about how much easier my mom and dad have been to live with since the counselling and medication began to have a positive effect on me. I'm still unsure whether it's down to my perspective of the situation being clearer, or if they are actually behaving differently. "They've backed off a little anyway, which I assume is a good sign." I offer her a smile and feel my stomach flip a little as she returns it. For that split second she looks carefree and young. It reminds me of the first time I saw her. "I just really need to move out of their house now," I say, sharing a little more. "I wish finding a decent place to live was a little easier."

"Oh God, tell me about it. You should see some of the places I looked at in Seattle." My happiness is clouded by the reminder that she's leaving, but there's something more. Her words make me wonder if I should be worried about her safety. Seattle isn't Forks, not by a long way. Almost without thinking, I take her hand in mine.

"I don't like the idea of you in the city, Bella. Promise me you'll stay safe." I'm deadly serious, but she actually giggles.

"Is this a _safe sex_ talk?" she asks. That was the last thing I was expecting her to say, and as hypocritical as I know it is, I definitely don't welcome the thought of her having sex with anyone else. I need some air. Releasing her hand I leave the hall.

Sambuca. I've been a part of this tradition on Jasper's birthdays for several years now. This year I'll have one for old times' sake, but I'm not going down the usual road. In my experience, it gets very messy from here.

I watch Bella walk in and take a place eagerly at the front next to Alice. She's already obviously affected by the wine that accompanied dinner. A part of me feels nervous at the prospect of her sinking shots too, there's a determination evident in her face and her stance; she's looking on this as a challenge. Her serious demeanour in the situation is almost amusing.

I move behind her, unable to resist reaching out and touching her with a hand on her waist.

"You don't have to do this, Bella," I tell her. I hope she recognises it for what it is - a good-natured comment. Her head flicks around so her face is close to mine. She falters a little I notice, the determined mask slipping as she looks at me, regarding me in a way that I haven't seen for a long time. A spark ignites a tiny flickering flame in my chest. Did she feel something? Dare I hope that she could ever feel anything for me again after what I put her through? I can't be sure, but I can hope.

I'm still looking into her face when an almost tangible shutter comes down. She looks away as she pushes my hand away from her body, so slowly that I'm not sure if I imagined the flesh of her fingers lingering on mine for a moment before she begins to apply a little force. Convinced that I had felt the hesitation, I try to wrap my own fingers around hers, but it only chases her away. She pulls her hand out of my reach, holding it safely in her other one in front of her.

I back off, but I watch her closely. One, two, three shots of Sambuca. One, and then another of tequila. Half an hour passes after her last shot. I walk into the kitchen as Alice walks out. Bella's there, propped up against the counter, eyes closed, body swaying – there's no music, it's all in an attempt to remain upright.

"Are you ok?" I ask. She opens her eyes, squints as she struggles to focus, and then her mouth breaks into a sloppy smile as her drunken brain catches up and realizes who I am.

"Hey _you_!" she says. I watch in amusement as she sidles over to me.

"Are you drunk?" I ask her, knowing that she is, but wanting to see if she'd admit it. She tilts her head from side to side as though considering the question, before nodding.

"Maybe a little," she says, smiling at me as though we're sharing a secret. She makes a cute drunk, I think to myself. My stomach drops a little as it hits me just how much I miss her. For a moment, all of the progress I've been making falls away, and I feel exactly the same as I did as I crawled across our bedroom floor, begging her to let me stay.

I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, trying to pull the pieces of my heart back together and compose myself. When I open them again, she's right in front of me. She tilts forward, planting her hands on my chest to stop herself from falling into me completely, and lets out a soft giggle. I smile a small, sad smile, but I'm too choked with emotion to actually speak.

Bella's hands are still on me. I look into her face and she looks back at me, head on one side. Her hands turn to fists, trapping handfuls of the fabric of my shirt, and she pulls me down to her. I pull back and look into her eyes. Behind the glassiness of alcohol is something else. A challenge; an unfamiliar hardness to her face as though she's trying to prove something. And as she moves to kiss me, I realize that's exactly what she's trying to do. She didn't want me to touch her before she was this drunk, it's all just alcohol-induced faux boldness.

I consider what to do. What I want more than anything is to gather her up in my arms and hold her and kiss her and make promises that I wouldn't even think of breaking now that I know what it's like to hurt her and lose her. I feel a kind of desperation to do it, because I know for a fact that as soon as she's sober again, my chance will have passed, because there's not a hope in hell that she's going to let me this close without the alcohol flowing in her veins.

And it's that thought that makes my decision for me. It's part selfishness because I know that if I do take advantage then she'll hate me more than ever tomorrow, but mostly it's because I know that, despite her actions saying she wants me, I know that she really doesn't. And I'll respect that, because I owe her that much and a damn site more besides.

I move my head to the side and she misses my lips as I intended. I don't straighten up though. I'm greedy for something…anything I can get that she won't hold against me too much later. I push my nose into her hair and breathe deeply, my stomach doing somersaults at the familiar smell.

"I miss you so much," I say quietly, finding courage in not having to look at her as I say it. She pushes me back against the counter and presses herself against me.

"Then come back to my place and show me," she demands. Her face is confident and sexy as hell, and she's using her eyes on me in a way she never has before. I push her away a little so that she's not close enough to feel the evidence of how she's making me feel. I know Bella though, and this isn't her. This is her trying to prove something to one or both of us.

A comment she made flashes through my mind, one from the night she confronted me.

_"Why don't you fuck me like that? Is that why you did it? Why you started this whole thing? Am I too vanilla for you, Edward? Am I boring in bed?"_

And in that moment I see clearly what this is all about. If it wasn't so ludicrous, I would laugh at Bella thinking that she doesn't measure up to Angela. _You made her feel like that,_ I remind myself. And although she doesn't show these insecurities to me when she's not drunk, that fact that she behaves this way when her inhibitions are lowered speaks just as loudly as if she were to stand in front of me and tell me the truth about how much I've damaged her self-worth.

Jasper enters the kitchen just as she pushes herself against me again. He stops short and his eyebrows shoot up as he takes in the sight of Bella draped all over me as I'm backed against the counter. She's oblivious to his presence and doesn't see the helpless look I give him to let him know that this isn't my doing. He clears his throat and Bella turns her head.

"Oh!" she exclaims as she steps back. "I was just…uh….I'm not feeling too good. I think I should be getting home, it's late." She takes another step away and stumbles, landing on her knees, giggling. Jasper and I both step forward to help her to her feet, but it's me she looks at as we hold onto an arm each. She has this adorable pink blush to her cheeks, partly from the alcohol, but intensified by the embarrassment of the fall.

I'm lost in her eyes, and I'm pretty sure we share a moment, before Jasper asks her if she's ok and she looks away to answer him.

"I'm fine, but I really do need to go. Edward will you take me home?" she turns to me. I look at her and then I look at Jasper, who I can tell is screaming at me in his head to say no.

"Yeah," I answer, annoyed by his concern. "Of course I will." I look back at Bella and she smiles at me.

"Ok, I need to to find my jacket and say goodbye to Alice," she says.

The moment she's out of sight, Jasper's next to me. He grabs my arms and yanks it hard. I trip over my feet at the suddenness of the movement, then pull my arm back out of his grasp.

"What the fuck, Jas?" I half-yell, not wanting to be overheard. He's up in my face now, his nose close to mine.

"You do anything other than deliver her safely to her door, Cullen, and I'll cut your balls off myself," he growls at me.

I could fight with him over his possessiveness, but actually I'm glad that Bella has somebody like him looking out for her. I push past him without saying a word and find Bella standing by the front door as Alice whispers words that I can guess, into her ear. As I pass Alice I get a similarly ferocious look as I got from Jasper earlier. Bella meets my gaze and rolls her eyes at them, before grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the door. Nobody bothers to say goodbye to me, but I can feel their eyes boring into us as we climb into my car.

Bella manages to fall asleep during the five minute ride home and I'm glad that I'd decided to drive instead of drinking tonight. I have a feeling that walking Bella home would have been a much more laborious task.

I get out of the car and walk around to the passenger side. I pull the door open but she doesn't stir. Leaning over her, I unfasten her seatbelt and gently shake her to try and wake her. It takes me a minute or so of shaking her and offering encouraging words, before she finally wakes and manages to stand up. I'm determined to make sure she's safe, so as she unlocks the door, I follow her inside. I turn back from locking it behind us, to find her lowering herself onto the staircase.

"Hey," I say, putting my arms around her and propping her back up. "Come on, let's get you to bed." Her eyes open and she raises her eyebrows.

"Ok," she replies, looking me up and down, before taking my hand and pulling me up behind her as she begins to climb the stairs. I follow her with the sole intention of seeing she's safe. I repeat this to myself several times, just so every part of me gets the message.

In her bedroom she sits to pull her shoes from her feet. I ask if I can use the bathroom, and she waves me through the door in the corner. When I'm done I step back into the bedroom, and then freeze. She's lying on the bed completely naked, one hand on the pillow beside her head, and her flawless skin glowing in the light of the bedside lamp. I try to take a deep breath in, but it's too shaky to fill my lungs completely.

"Bella." My voice sounds unfamiliar to my ears as I say her name. It's as though I can hear every confused emotion that I'm feeling in that one word.

"Edward." She reaches her hand out to me. "Come over here and let me show you exactly what you missed out on for all those years." I'm trying to keep eye contact with her face, but my eyes keep wandering over her once so familiar body. It looks just as it always did, and I know exactly how each and every inch of it feels under my hands and mouth. I want to know it again. I want to know _her_ again.

I take tentative steps to the bed, and let her pull me down when I get within her reach. Her mouth finds mine easily, and we kiss, our lips remembering exactly how to move together, my tongue tasting her for the first time in what feels like an eternity, but at the same time maybe as recently as yesterday.

It's as her hands move to the waistband of my jeans, that common sense finally snaps back and slaps me in the face. I break the kiss.

"You have no idea how much I'd love to, Bella," I tell her honestly as she whimpers in frustration. "But you'd despise me in the morning and I can't stand for you to hate me any more than you already do." I feel my face twist in pain as I make my confession to her. I sit up and rub my hands across it to try and relieve the tension there. When I open my eyes she's looking at me in a completely different way. The hardness on her face is still there, but there's a chink in it as she opens her mouth and tells me that she doesn't hate me.

"That's the problem," she mumbles. I have no idea how her confession makes me feel. On the one hand I'm ridiculously happy to hear that she still has feelings for me, but on the other, it makes her refusal to even consider a reconciliation – since I'm guessing that's not what she has planned tonight – even more frustrating and heartbreaking.

"Then even more reason to stop now," I say. She says nothing, and when I turn to her again she has her eyes closed and her breathing has slowed. A part of me is relieved to be able to leave the discussion there, but another part of me longs to hear more on how she feels about me.

I manage to maneuver her beneath the covers on her bed, and then sit beside her, propped up against the headboard. As she sleeps, I run my fingers up and down her arm and talk to her. I tell her about how bad I still feel – and always will – for what I did to her. I tell her what's been happening with me, all about my therapy sessions, and finally I tell her how I'm feeling right now. Finally I drift to sleep wondering if this is the last night I'll ever spend with Bella, and wondering how I'll cope with having to leave her again in the morning. Or rather, how my heart will cope.

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><p><strong>Please leave a review! Would love to know what you think of Edward's perspective of the night :o)<strong>


	3. EPoV Ch18

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer**

**Just a short look at what's going on in Edward's head!**

**Edward's PoV**

"Hey," I greet Chelsea when I answer the knock on the front door to find her standing on the doorstep. She stretches up on her toes to kiss me and I bend down to meet her, knowing she'll never reach otherwise, even in those heels. "How was your day?" I ask, closing the door as she slips off her jacket and shoes.

"I had a great time. Your mom's so nice," she tells me, hanging her jacket up. I smile.

"Where'd you go?" I ask her as we wander back through to the living room and I settle back onto the couch where I'd been watching TV when she arrived. She sinks down next to me and I lift my arm to let her tuck herself in next to me.

"Just Port Angeles," she says, her eyes on the TV. "Oh!" she exclaims suddenly, looking up at me now. "Guess who I met in the coffee shop this morning though?"

"Who?" I ask, amused by her demeanour.

"Bella!" she announces, watching me as she clearly waits for a reaction. I'm a little shocked because, even though I knew Bella was back in Forks, her name was the last one that I was expecting to fall from Chelsea's lips. I'm aware that I'm slightly frozen and have paused a fraction longer than is normal as I picture my girlfriend, my mom and my ex-wife in the small coffee shop in town.

"Oh?" I say, trying hard to make it sound light and uninterested.

"Yeah, she was with a girl with short dark hair."

"Probably Alice, Jasper's wife," I tell her. There are more than a few questions I'd like to ask about Bella, but I know that directing them at Chelsea isn't appropriate. I also know that Bella's still with that Riley guy. After seeing them together at Fort Worden; the way he doted on her and the late night chat Bella and I had, there's no way I'd do anything to jeopardise that for her. Up to that point I was all set to fight for her, but Riley was like a slap in the face; like the truth and reality of what happened between us slamming against me. That was the point I laid down everything I was planning to fight with and walked away, determined to leave her be and find a way to move on. I hadn't seen her since the night we talked over cocoa, months ago.

I suddenly realize that Chelsea is looking at me expectantly. I clear my throat nervously.

"Sorry, did you say something?" I ask. She looks away.

"Never mind," she replies in a small voice. She's unnaturally quiet all through dinner and into the evening too. I try, but my heart's not in it, and when she asks if she can stay over I make my excuses and send her home.

As I lie wide awake in bed a little later, my phone rings. It's Chelsea. She doesn't even say hello.

"It was because of your ex, wasn't it? You started acting weird as soon as I mentioned her name to you." I have the feeling she's been going over this in her head all evening and trying to work herself up to this call.

"I'm sorry."

"I really like you, Edward, but if you're not over her, then you shouldn't be with me. It's not fair on you or me."

"I know."

"You know?" she asks tentatively. I sigh as I cover my eyes with my hand.

"Look, Chelsea, I've not found things easy since my divorce. I've been feeling better lately though; I thought I was over it, but hearing her name out of nowhere shook me up. Maybe I'm not ready. Maybe I shouldn't have let things between us go anywhere," I tell her, being completely honest.

"Oh." She sounds surprised. I'd thought this was what she was expecting me to say, but now I'm not so sure. "If you want to try making things more casual for a time, then I'm cool with that," she says quickly. "I didn't mean…" I really don't have the energy for this kind of thing.

"Chelsea," I sigh. "Let's just leave it, ok?"

Silence. And then…

"Goodbye, Edward," she whispers. I say goodbye in reply, but when I check the screen of my phone I see that she's already ended the call.

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><p>I manage to avoid everyone for the rest of the week, but when I arrive alone for dinner with my parents on my birthday, I'm left to explain why to my mother.<p>

"Oh, honey, Chelsea was such a nice girl too, I thought you liked her," she says as I help her in the kitchen. I turn to look at her, which is a mistake because all I see is the disappointment on her face.

"Please don't look at me like that, Mom," I say. "I did like her."

"But she broke up with you? She seemed so smitten—"

Thankfully my dad chooses that moment to walk into the kitchen.

"Happy birthday, son," he says, clapping me on the back as he passes.

"Thanks, Dad," I reply.

"I really thought you were getting ready to settle down again," my mom continues, thankfully forgetting I hadn't replied to why _Chelsea _broke up with _me_. "It's nearly two years since you and Bella broke up and Chelsea was the only girl you've made any kind of effort with in that time." She stops what she's doing and turns to face me. "I worry about you, Edward," she says.

"I know," I tell her. "But you don't need to; really, I'm fine."

"But I'm not so sure you are. First there was the whole mess with Bella, and now you just don't seem able to move on," she tells me. As if I didn't know. Does she think I don't worry about this shit too?

"Well maybe I don't have to be in a relationship to have moved on," I tell her. "Why can't I be happy on my own?" And even as the words leave my lips, I realize that believing in this may just be the best idea I've had in a long time.

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><p><strong>Of Pleasure &amp; Pain has been nominated as one of The Lemonade Stand's Fic of the Week as of 21<strong>**st**** December, 2012. If you get chance, please go over to tehlemonadestand dot net (misspelling of 'the' in the address is deliberate – it's how it's spelt in the url) and check out the 'Meet the Poll' section to vote :o)**

**Wishing everybody a very Happy Christmas!**


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